Forged Alliances
by Brightelf
Summary: The prequel to "Forgotten Alliances"
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: Don't own 'em, ain't making money off 'em, so don't sue me. In nicer terms, G.I. Joe and anything associated with it are the property of Sunbow, DIC, Marvel Comics, and Devil's Due Comics.  
  
NOTE: This work of fiction is a prequel to "Forgotten Alliances." Once again, you can take it as comic cannon since we know little to nothing about Lady Jaye, or alternate universe, or hey, cartoon cannon! Either and all ways, feedback is greatly appreciated!  
  
FORGED ALLIANCES  
  
Copyright 2002 by Brightelf  
  
CHAPTER 1: TO BE OR NOT TO BE.  
  
The knot was perfectly centered and his bow tie was expertly tied. He slipped his tuxedo jacket on, smoothing the lapels down. /Come in Tomax. / The door opened and his mirror image walked in. "Good evening brother. Where are you going?" Xamot picked up his wallet and keys. "The Abbey Theatre. Apparently a Shakespearean troupe is playing tonight." Tomax rolled his eyes. "Such fun that will be." "It's something to do." "Brother, this is Dublin. Not London's West End. You could probably find more 'theatre,' and I use that term loosely, in one of the pubs in Temple Bar." "Maybe. However, for a wealthy, beautiful British heiress, I can sit through a night of shoddy acting." Chuckling, Tomax remarked, "Ah yes, the lovely Lady Amanda Jeffries. Lovely as long as she doesn't attempt to use words that are more than one syllable." Xamot grinned cagily. "Hopefully her mouth will be used for something different." Tomax laughed at that. The brothers shared bottomless appetites for wealth, power, and sex. "Well then, enjoy yourself at the theatre.and afterwards. I myself already have" he smirked, "company for the evening." A deep baritone laugh was his response. Tomax grinned as he headed back upstairs.  
  
****  
  
Xamot rolled his eyes as his date whispered (for the seventeenth time) that she "didn't quite get the fuss," and fluffed her blond hair in annoyance. If it wasn't for the fact that she was willing to invest a considerable amount of her several billion-dollar divorce settlement in their latest venture. He turned his eyes back to the stage, watching Hamlet wax poetic. His interest perked up as a tiny Ophelia stumbled onto the stage. The troop was quite good actually, but Hamlet and Ophelia were stealing the show. His reverie was shattered by an unholy scream from Ophelia. She fell to her knees, lamenting her father, tearing at her hair. Claudius gently touched her shoulder. "How do you, pretty lady?" Her empty eyes turned to him, her small heart-shaped face dirty and tear-stained. She smiled an idiot's smile. "Well, God 'ild you! They say the owl was a baker's daughter. Lord, we know not what we are but not what we may be. God be at your table!" She whirled around the stage, lost in her own mind as Claudius and Gertrude watched in helpless anguish. She skipped ungracefully, singing her bawdy, nonsensical tune. ".Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes, and dupt the chamber door; Let in the maid, that out a maid never departed more!" Ophelia began climbing up the balcony, looking like a half-starved gray bird. She let out a demonic yell. Xamot jumped back as she crouched on the edge of the balcony. A pair of eyes locked with his---the oddest pair of eyes he had ever seen, hazel eyes of green and amber. She climbed on his lap, yanking at his hair, singing insanity. "They bore him barefaced on the bier; Hey nonny nonny, nonny, hey nonny; And in his grave rained many a tear---Fare you well dove!" Xamot could feel his pressure rising as she squirmed on his lap, running her tiny fingers over his face. She licked her lips, those odd green-gold eyes vacant of anything. She handed him a dead flower. "There's rosemary, that's for remembrance; pray you, love, remember; and there is pansies, and that's for thoughts." She pressed against him as she wept on his shoulder. Xamot tried to control his body's reaction. He felt the eyes of the audience on them both. And if looks could kill, Amanda would be guilty of murder. Her fathomless eyes held his as she backed off him and stood on the balcony wailing. Ophelia threw dead flowers on the audience. "There's fennel for you, and columbines---there's rue for you; and there's some for me---we may call it herb-grace o' Sundays!" She sat on the balcony and began to cry, chewing on her fingernail, rocking back and forth, making low keening sounds. Laertes climbed up the balcony, cradling his insane sister as she lamented her losses. He carried her down and offstage, her screams and wailings echoing throughout the theatre. Gertrude and Claudius wept over the young woman's insanity. Xamot exhaled slowly and sat back. Amanda was still glaring at him. He turned to look at her. "She---she was magnificent." Amanda sniffed, whispering harshly, "As if this is an enjoyable romantic evening."  
  
The curtain fell on the death of the Prince of Denmark. The crowd, Amanda excepted, jumped to their feet, cheering and applauding wildly as the curtain reopened for the actors to take their bows. The noise grew louder and louder as each actor came out. The applause reached near hysteria as Hamlet and his leading lady came out. Xamot stopped in mid-clap as Ophelia bowed. She was young, that much he knew. And strikingly beautiful. Her mahogany mane tumbled over her shoulders like a Shetland pony's. Her smile was radiant as she bowed, those oddly magnificent eyes sparkling with energy. She curtsied, acknowledging the applause. Xamot stared her until the curtains closed. His silence was broken by Amanda's haughty voice. "I wish to go home, since you find a closed curtain more interesting than me." His eyes swept over her, the irritation evident in his voice. "As you wish, my dear." 


	2. I Hear the Secrets That You Keep

CHAPTER 2---I Hear the Secrets That You Keep  
  
Xamot gladly dropped off Amanda, having put up with her complaining about what a horrible evening she had suffered longer than any man should. Good riddance! He decided to forego going back to the Clarence to walk off some of his pent up energy he had hoped to expend tonight. He walked down O' Connell Street, crossing the bridge over the Liffey and headed towards Temple Bar. Being nearly midnight, the pubs were reaching near riot-status. He walked past a sign pointing the way to the Abbey Theatre. An unwilling smile crossed his lips. His mind went back to earlier in the night. Somehow, although not an unpleasant sensation to have a woman writhing in his lap, it was certainly not a thing he expected to find in a Shakespearean production. What an Ophelia! He opened the door to walk into the Brazen Head. He wasn't getting laid, so he may as well get drunk. Out of the corner of his eye, he could have sworn he saw a small figure vanish into the misty Irish night.  
  
The window opened soundlessly as she slid in. /Piece o'cake with tha' alarm system. Now for the safe---/ Her eyes adjusted to the darkness. /-Which is exactly where I wouldn't hide an exceptionally important document I didn't want anyone to know I had./ She pulled the two largest pillows off the bed and placed them in front of the door. She closed the curtains and turned on the desk lamp. There was faint thumping from the next room. /Sounds like-/ She strained her ears. /Aye./ The sound of a headboard tapping against a wall. /Someone's getting lucky. Unlike me. / Her eyes scanned the room for faint lines and shadows, studying everything from the ceiling to the floor to the baseboards---/Gotcha! / She moved toward the baseboard under the window and pulled slightly at it. It opened. A smirk spread across her face. /Come to mama. / She unfolded the documents. Quickly she snapped photos and returned the papers to their hiding spot. Her eyes drifted towards the safe. She had seen (and lifted) many lovely jewels and maybe---/No! Mind on the job girl! 'Sides, you promised him. / She returned everything to the way it was and soundlessly closed and locked the window behind her as she vanished into the night. No one would ever know she had been there.  
  
"I'm exhausted." She nudged him awake. A muffled brogue and then he was awake. "T'ere y'are darlin'. Was gittin' worried about ye, I was. C'mere." Aislinn flopped next to him on the sofa. His arm went around her as he dropped a kiss on her head. "Successful, wee one?" "'Twas so." "Then sleep wee girl." He pulled a blanket to her chin and wrapped one arm tightly around her as he used his free hand to sip his whiskey.  
  
Tomax drank his coffee, chuckling at his twin's grousing. "I take it the evening did not go all that well?" Xamot glared at him. "As if you did not already know." Grinning, Tomax poured himself another cup of coffee. "True. Still even if we weren't linked, I would still know, due to your date's rather." he paused in amusement, "heated message on the answering machine." Rolling his eyes, Xamot sniped, "You mean she actually can complete sentences." "Apparently," Tomax gave him a curious look. "However, I am a bit intrigued. What's this about a lap dance? As far as I know, that has never been a scene in Shakespeare." An odd smile crossed Xamot's face as he described the play, specifically its odd, elfish Ophelia. Tomax raised an eyebrow. "Well, a young woman writing in your lap has a tendency to have that effect brother." Xamot shook his head. "No brother, she was magnificent to behold. She-she had the strangest eyes I have ever seen." He sat back in his chair. "What can I say? She intrigued me." A lascivious grin spread across his twin's face. "No brother. She made you horny. Anyway," he threw his napkin on the table, "you need to get to Connelly's. He wants to invest." Xamot raised his eyebrow. "Excellent. Although I still don't trust him to do business with. Too good at what he does. It's much easier dealing with stupid people." "But not as exhilarating." "True."  
  
"Whiskey?" "Gladly." Liam Connelly walked over to the table, eyeing his guest. /Eyes like a demon. / Still, to finance a campaign to unite his beloved Ireland, he'd do anything, even deal with the devil himself. "To business then. I'll invest IF you triple our money." "And increase your influence in Belfast, no doubt." "Why should that bother ye?" "Just curious. Wouldn't it be easier to ask us to finance weapons for the IRA? Your wish might be granted quicker." /Y'snotty bastard. Ye'd like t'at wouldn't ye? Chaos and bloodshed mean more money for ye, an' the rest o'us be damned./ Liam didn't voice those thoughts, however. He stated. "Because I'm nae longer with those bastards. 'Twas a time, a long time ago, when they were freedom fighters. Now they're just butchers." Xamot shook his head. Idealists. Little good for anything else except making more money for him. "Your decision. However-" "Liam, where the bloody hell---oh! I did nae' know y'had company." A petite young woman stumbled into the room, a wash of chestnut hair tumbling in her face and her eyes slitted with sleep. Xamot stared at this extraordinary image as Liam turned kind blue eyes on her. "Ah, girl. I was wondering if ye were going to sleep the day away. Y'have rehearsal in t'ree hours." She groaned and pushed the heavy tresses out of her face. "Please! I've never missed a rehearsal. Anyways, I was going to ask if y'had any clean towels." "Sure I do. In the cupboard by the lamp." "Thanks." She grinned and turned hazel green-gold eyes on Xamot. "Who's he?" Those eyes. Xamot couldn't stop the words from blurting out. "You're Ophelia!" Liam and Ophelia stared at him. An uncertain smiled crossed her lips. "Ummm---excuse me?" Even Liam was staring at him askance. Xamot quickly explained his shock. "Ah-sorry for startling you. I just-you're the actress who played Ophelia at the Abbey last night." The young woman grinned. "Aye. Were y'there last night?" "Yes." A wicked thought crossed his mind. He wanted to see her reaction. "I was privileged to have an up-close view of your performance." His eyes looked with her strange ones. "Up close-oh!" A deep pink spread across her cheeks. She glared as Liam chuckled. "You-I told you that was a bad idea!" Her face was turning a lovely tomato color by this point. Xamot smiled. "Very impressive interpretation though." The blush was now spreading down her neck. Xamot found himself wondering if that blush went all the way down. Seeing his roving gaze, she glared at him and stormed off. They heard the door slam. Xamot snickered at her minor tantrum. "Temperamental little thing, isn't she?" Liam stared at him. "Aye," his voice grew cold, "she's also angry as a banshee and too good for the likes of you." Ebony locked with glacial blue. "Connelly, are you insulting me?" "Nae. Protecting her. Ye're dealing with me. She's just a friend o'mine, nothing to do with this." Xamot weighed the warning behind Liam's words. He wondered of the girl was involved with him. Liam was still snarling at him. He laughed loudly. "Please Liam. I'm here to make money, not take a mistress. At any rate," he stood up; "I must be going. You'll get your investment rewarded. I'll show myself out." He walked out. Liam stared at the closed door. He did not like the slight interest Xamot had shown in Aislinn. She was involved in enough. He thanked God that the man would be leaving town.  
  
Xamot looked up as he walked out the building. She was sitting in the second story window, reading some papers. His sharp eyes watched her lips move. He smiled. Too bad he was leaving in a few days. 


End file.
